around to lean on the bar.
That was when he saw someone who was definitely not a regular at the Trough.
Chase had just come out of the men's room and was making his way back to the bar when he saw him. Brad Wilson. Great. Just what I need to ruin my night , Chase thought as he took a pull on his beer. He knew that he was bound to run into at least a few people from his high school days but of all people on his first night out it just had to be Brad fucking Wilson. Hopefully, the cowboy hat he wore would be his saving grace and the asshole wouldn't recognize him.
Brad noticed the tall cowboy as he exited the men's room. As he looked down the bar, he took in the man. The cowboy hat, that didn't look fresh off the rack, was pulled low, hiding the man's eyes.
Broad shoulders tapered down to a fit waist. His tee shirt was tucked neatly into Wranglers that traveled down long legs, ending in well-worn cowboy boots. He could be just another trucker passing through but most truckers don't look that fit. The man leaned casually on the bar and did not even glance in Brad's direction. Well, whoever he is, I am sure to learn all about him soon enough if he is going to become a local. That was both the blessing and the curse living in this backwater area of North Carolina. Everyone knew your business just like you knew theirs.
Chase looked at his high school enemy from under the brim of his hat. He felt Brad's eyes looking him over from head to toe as he did the same covertly. Brad was still built like the defensive safety he had been in high school and his brown hair was still too long, overdue for a cut. Chase was sure that if there were more light in the bar, Brad would sport the perfect tan just like he always had in high school.
Guess that is one bonus to working a farm , Chase thought and pushed the image of the jock's tan lines from his head.
Too bad the guy was a prick because he was still hot as hell. Not that that mattered anyway. Chase knew his chances for a hook up would be less than nil when he returned home from the Corps. Not like they were much higher when he was in, either, but at least he wasn't facing celibacy.
Brad watched while the newcomer drank the last of his beer and tried not to enjoy the way his throat moved as he swallowed. The man looked like he was deep in thought and when he frowned, Brad couldn't help but wonder what that handsome face would look like with a smile.
"Hey man!" A slap on Brad's shoulder pulled his thoughts and gaze away from the cowboy. "Let's shoot a game."
"Sure," Brad replied to his buddy.
Chase watched from the corner of his eye as Brad and Bobby Morris made their way over to the pool table. Great. Not one asshole, but two . He thanked Jackie for his new beer and tried not to relive the abuse those two assholes put him through in high school. The images came even though he tried to push them back into his own private mental cell where he stored them.
Chase had not been a jock or a nerd, but just some scrawny kid who just wanted to be left alone. The practical jokes and bullying from the jocks and other popular kids were never ending, as were the names they called him. They called him everything from four eyes, to pimple prick, to cocksucker. At least the Lasik took care of the 'four-eyes' and age took care of the pimples. As for the cocksucker, well, they got that one right and at least he was good at it. That brought a smile to his face.
The names weren't the worst of it, not by far. It was the ceaseless practical jokes that had him contemplating giving up his education on an almost daily basis. Shit left in his locker, literally, homework ripped to shreds, and the ass kicking’s. All for sport, all for fun and games, and all at his expense. Bulling was just a part of his life back then and there was nothing he could do about it and nobody gave a shit anyway. Graduation day seemed like it would never come so he could escape the hell that was his high school. The scrawny kid that was
That was when he saw someone who was definitely not a regular at the Trough.
Chase had just come out of the men's room and was making his way back to the bar when he saw him. Brad Wilson. Great. Just what I need to ruin my night , Chase thought as he took a pull on his beer. He knew that he was bound to run into at least a few people from his high school days but of all people on his first night out it just had to be Brad fucking Wilson. Hopefully, the cowboy hat he wore would be his saving grace and the asshole wouldn't recognize him.
Brad noticed the tall cowboy as he exited the men's room. As he looked down the bar, he took in the man. The cowboy hat, that didn't look fresh off the rack, was pulled low, hiding the man's eyes.
Broad shoulders tapered down to a fit waist. His tee shirt was tucked neatly into Wranglers that traveled down long legs, ending in well-worn cowboy boots. He could be just another trucker passing through but most truckers don't look that fit. The man leaned casually on the bar and did not even glance in Brad's direction. Well, whoever he is, I am sure to learn all about him soon enough if he is going to become a local. That was both the blessing and the curse living in this backwater area of North Carolina. Everyone knew your business just like you knew theirs.
Chase looked at his high school enemy from under the brim of his hat. He felt Brad's eyes looking him over from head to toe as he did the same covertly. Brad was still built like the defensive safety he had been in high school and his brown hair was still too long, overdue for a cut. Chase was sure that if there were more light in the bar, Brad would sport the perfect tan just like he always had in high school.
Guess that is one bonus to working a farm , Chase thought and pushed the image of the jock's tan lines from his head.
Too bad the guy was a prick because he was still hot as hell. Not that that mattered anyway. Chase knew his chances for a hook up would be less than nil when he returned home from the Corps. Not like they were much higher when he was in, either, but at least he wasn't facing celibacy.
Brad watched while the newcomer drank the last of his beer and tried not to enjoy the way his throat moved as he swallowed. The man looked like he was deep in thought and when he frowned, Brad couldn't help but wonder what that handsome face would look like with a smile.
"Hey man!" A slap on Brad's shoulder pulled his thoughts and gaze away from the cowboy. "Let's shoot a game."
"Sure," Brad replied to his buddy.
Chase watched from the corner of his eye as Brad and Bobby Morris made their way over to the pool table. Great. Not one asshole, but two . He thanked Jackie for his new beer and tried not to relive the abuse those two assholes put him through in high school. The images came even though he tried to push them back into his own private mental cell where he stored them.
Chase had not been a jock or a nerd, but just some scrawny kid who just wanted to be left alone. The practical jokes and bullying from the jocks and other popular kids were never ending, as were the names they called him. They called him everything from four eyes, to pimple prick, to cocksucker. At least the Lasik took care of the 'four-eyes' and age took care of the pimples. As for the cocksucker, well, they got that one right and at least he was good at it. That brought a smile to his face.
The names weren't the worst of it, not by far. It was the ceaseless practical jokes that had him contemplating giving up his education on an almost daily basis. Shit left in his locker, literally, homework ripped to shreds, and the ass kicking’s. All for sport, all for fun and games, and all at his expense. Bulling was just a part of his life back then and there was nothing he could do about it and nobody gave a shit anyway. Graduation day seemed like it would never come so he could escape the hell that was his high school. The scrawny kid that was
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